


Favorable, That’s What You Are

by RichmanBachard



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Anal Sex, Analingus, Angst, Choking, Cunnilingus, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fingering, Flirting, Fluff, Porn with Feelings, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference, Teasing, Vaginal Sex, Valentine’s Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:34:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22727719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RichmanBachard/pseuds/RichmanBachard
Summary: Feelings are laid bare, amid New Gridania’s festival of love.
Relationships: Male Roegadyn/Female Miqo’te, Miqo'te Characters/Roegadyn Characters (Final Fantasy XIV), Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 7





	Favorable, That’s What You Are

When they had first met, he wasn’t quite sure what to think. Such a comparatively small, mischievous woman; a ball of possibility. A thief, a dancer. Nothing but trouble, some of his peers might have said. In truth, some had. Yet when he looked upon her, he found that there was something else to it. To her. Something more.

He grew to enjoy her company, even with her many.. eccentricities. It complimented his own demeanor splendidly besides, but more than that, something else had crept upon him: the roegadyn had slowly become enamored with her look. 

He found her beautiful. 

He tried to put his finger on it, to wax poetically over what it might have been. The bold, emerald embrace of her eyes and the suggestive twinkle which lay behind them. The warmth of her smile, perhaps; the tenderness of her touch. The grace of her movements, the cut of her gib. 

He concluded that the answer was all of that, and more.

Seven hells.

Mathias grew to fancy Neema. That much was painfully clear. For all his discipline, for all his moments of caution and stoicism and bitterness, the roegadyn still wore his heart upon his sleeve. Bruised as it might have been, he did.

Whether she truly felt the same way had remained an unknown - something she was seemingly content to keep him in the dark about, possibly forever; to her delight and his chagrin. Truth to be told he minded it little, simply savoring the brief moments they would share all the same.

Until he found himself enduring several sleepless nights - and not in the fun sort of way he preferred, with her or any previous partner he might have had. 

Something inside him had swelled, a barrage of possibility both exciting and terrifying all at once. It made him.. uneasy, the sensation tearing through his chest like a sickness, a virus taking hold and never relenting. Was.. this what it was like? Had he really forgotten? It had been so long, but the occasions he felt similarly before were.. difficult. More than difficult. They were troubling.

He thought of much when he thought of her. What once was, what might be. Though the days of future past mattered little when the present bore greater fruit: New Gridania was soon to house its yearly event dedicated to love and all its splendor.

Excellent, he wagered.

He had fought in wars. Suffered humiliation, loss, and injury. Sent men and women to die, per his orders, regrettably. He had been betrayed, and beaten within an inch of his life. 

And yet, and yet- the task of mustering the courage to ask - to simply ask - his Miqo’te dance partner whether she would have liked to attend the event with him or not had proven.. much more arduous than he would have liked. It was pathetic. Deep down he considered himself a lowly, pathetic man - but life had done much to benefit the contrary. Or so it would seem.

When she agreed, he was positively elated. Still a nervous wreck, of course, now with the awareness that there would be room for two, but he kept a cool head. When they arri—

“Hey,” Neema smacked his arm lightly, after having popped yet another piece of chocolate into her mouth. Courtesy of the event.. and its many guests, unknowingly or not. Sleight of hand held true. A coy look was upon her face. “Is aught amiss..?”

His head shook itself lightly. “N-Nay.. nay. I am.. fine, m’lady.” His eyes refocused, his mind snapping back to the present moment instead of wandering elsewhere. The pair were seated around a small table, built just for two. The warmth of the sun obscured only by the umbrella which hung above them. The event continued, crowds of people strolling up and down the well-trodden path. He swiped at his nose. “I’m simply..”

“Being silly?” she finished for him, with a smile. 

He relented. “Always.”

Mathias could tell there was a certain eagerness in her body language now. What once was the need for solace, something more meditative which he respected greatly, was now a burgeoning sense to move. To hop and jump and clamber. To perch herself mischievously; the art of the nuisance. He saw the urge, minor as it was, and smiled. “I do apologize we did not get a more..” he rubbed at his chin, “..positive score, after the game of cards.”

Neema briefly outstretched an incredulous palm as she spoke. “It was... fine? You don’t have to apologize, Matti.” Her eyes rolled slightly. “It was favorable! That’s good! Of course it was favorable. When I’m around, ‘tis always a more favorable sight to seee..” Her last few words were tinged with the slight shred of a pirate’s cadence, at his expense. 

Lovingly, he was sure. “Aye,” he replied, indulging her slightly before taking a sip of the sweetened brew the festival had made. “I am but lowly arm-candy in the presence of you, lass.”

The snort of a laugh that fell from her lips was a delightful one. “That’s right.” Nearing, she patted him idly upon the length of his forearm. “A pretty face and a nice cock always helps compliment my style!”

He mocked a look of disappointment. “Pray you shan’t forget my wealth of _muscle?_ I thought you fancied those just as well.”

“Truth to be told, dearheart, I know a person’s two best qualities when I see ‘em.” Her fingers swiped across the hem of his jaw, free from any scruff. “I do miss the beard, though. If you could even call it that.. ‘least you did away with that dumpy hat..”

He hummed. “I shall remember to grow it out again, then.”

Neema shrugged with a cute little hum, seemingly ambivalent. “That’s your choice, do not do it on my account.”

Mathias grinned into his mug, taking another swig. He thought of their day so far: all the talking heads, the choices to make. The maze, the card game, they even enjoyed the brief respite of an event made for couples to dance. In the wake of that, they were both left a touch rattled - him more than her, naturally. He hardly considered himself a proper dancer, whereas she outclassed in almost every way. “A-Are you having a good time, still?” he asked in earnest, forwarding the conversation along before he had made things awkward. Though it was a trap he set for himself and fell into, often.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she replied simply. 

He stammered over his next few words. There it was. “Oh, I simply prefer to remain courteous even when-“

She halted his speech, her palm resting upon his forearm once more. “You’re doing it again.” Before he could respond, the dancer decided to elect a hint of mercy; indulging him. Neema gave the query some thought. He could see her drawing out the inevitable response, humming loudly as she made him wait. “Fair weather, several extra pieces of gil in my coinpurse.. dancing, chocolates, a few sexy au ra men.. a cute outfit,” her eyes glanced towards him, “relatively decent company.” Her shoulders shrugged the slightest bit, that same smile adorning her lips.

He laughed, quelling his nerves with the calm and collected persona she had long since enjoyed. “Mayhap you are enjoying it a touch too much, then?”

Her brows sharpened into something more direct. “Oh, oh I think I can touch _juuust_ a mite more.”

A faint blush came upon his cheeks, as a more suggestive grin spread across her lips. “My lady jests, per usual.”

She scoffed. “Seven hells, you lumpy bastard, don’t spoil it! Stop calling me a lady!!” She had paused, wiping a gloved hand across her brow with a sigh. “It makes me feel so.... old.”

Ever the paradox, some charm slipped through as he matched her suggestiveness. “Shall I make you feel young again?” he asked, a small grin to his face now.

The two locked eyes, then. In a deep stare, a mixture of gold and emerald. She had given him an inch, just a hairs worth of placation, but now was the time for further jests. He saw it clear as day. “You know,” she began to say. “Mayhap my roegadyn arm-candy talks too much..” She gave her chin several, playful taps. 

A part of him felt genuinely bruised, despite knowing better. Though something overtook him, in that moment. Call it a ounce of bravery, or stupidity, something he was sure she’d consider to be the same. The man wanted to admit his feelings, lay bare the ache in his heart in hopes of resolution; possible reciprocation. He knew the situation; he understood her light, carefree attitude. To be unburdened by such a weight to carry, a plant to root. He admired her sense of freedom and independence, and shared not just a mutual love of that but carnal desire too - freely, with whomever might be lucky or interesting enough. Though feelings themselves were.. terrifying, worth concern. He knew that, how she felt- he did. In the wake of those feelings, it made him feel small. Uneasy. Solitude was normally preferable to this, yet he persisted anyway. Why?

They were similar, yet polar opposites. He prided himself on contradiction.

“Neema, my lady.” He cleared his throat, ignoring the band of riders and their many chocobos as they ferried by. “Your eyes.. they remind me of the night sky; beautiful and full of possibility.”

“Oh no..”

“Your presence warms me greatly. And.. and- though I do not feel worthy of your-“

She interrupted him. From the look of it, her mind had seemingly sat on the wealth of prior flirtation. She clicked her tongue several times. “I do believe I can find better uses for that mouth of yours.” 

A healthy blush came upon his cheeks. The facial paint he religiously wore be damned. Like a bolt of lighting, it spread through his core to a tantalizing degree. As if the sight of her had not already helped to accomplish that. “Wh-“ He hummed, altering course. “What did you have in mind?”

She leaned over, humming a kind of tune. “I have a few ideas.”

His admittance could wait, as something else had taken over. A hunger. With that, he took the lead, pressing against her, a desperate look in his eyes. “May I kiss you?” 

She gave him a look, a nimble hand moving to grip at the tie around his neck. “You’ll do more than that.” She pulled him in, and their lips met softly into a deep kiss. He melted into it. More puddle now than man. 

All the roegadyn could hope for now, was for her to fare similarly once they were done. Come what may.

—

When they had first met, she found herself a considerable challenge. A wall of stone to chip away at, slowly. A tool to refine, to bounce against; to poke and prod, a sort of tree to scale. He looked.. fun, something to toy with, given her nature. A potential bounty. She thought she knew exactly what to think.

To her credit, he _was_ fun. And he was cute, even nice. Dumb on occasion, but nice. 

Perhaps dumb was too harsh a word but her colorful collection of sayings remained light, and presumptuous. He gave her exactly what she would have hoped for. Again and again. 

Today would be no different, only.. a touch more special. Was it?

She hadn’t the time to ponder the specifics, however; not when she placed a hand over her lips to muffle the small cry which spilled from them. 

The miqo’te found herself to be a symphony of squeaks and moans, as his tongue traced the workings of her lower half, across the tender heat of her sex and ass, his fingers digging into the supple flesh of her backside. She was bent forward, her other hand against the bark of a lowly tree as she backed her ass up against his face. They had moved some meters away from the celebration; to somewhere more secluded and obscure, though not entirely private. Her favorite. 

Mathias was sweet, a deliberate sort eager to learn what made her tick. In truth, so much had. Yet in his politeness and careful touch, there was something else; something more. She could see it clear as day: a hunger, a forcefulness, a need she wished to exploit. He remained intoxicated by her scent, drunk off of the savory nectar that was her quim and rump. She could only hum with satisfied glee at his insistence, how voracious he was. The hand which covered her mouth had moved, her fingers threading the locks of his hair to tighten upon them with a few affectionate pulls — to slyly help get him where she wanted him to be. 

But he surprised her shortly after, as he poked and prodded carefully until two of his fingers plunged themselves into her, one past her lips and the other nestled into her backside - out of not just a need for what was to come, but sheer want. She loved how hungry she made him. He was good for something at the least. Conversely, she was good at a great many things.

Climbing mountains of a sort simply happened to be one of them.

Her body was torn into from the outpouring of release that spread through her, the orgasm coming quick and tingling her every nerve. A series of expletives came from her, then, cursing under her breath, her chest heaving as he palmed her sensitive breasts. Neema shuddered, as the thickness of his talons worked her over. The nectar which fell from her in droves had begun to paint her inner thighs, wetting the fabric upon her legs; the soft, sleek material which helped accentuate her curves. 

She could hold herself up no longer, asking him to readjust. 

The grass felt cool upon his bare knees, settled nicely upon them as he sat against the ankles of his feet. When his fingers withdrew from her, she whined - but not for long, for she knew better. 

The miqo’te turned with a smirk to give the length of his erect shaft a few, sensual pumps, applying a wealth of spit to the beginnings of his sex. She could see it written all over his face, the uneasy but wanting anxiety inside of him. The way he looked at her. It was cute, a sort of cute she was known to tolerate. On occasion. “Lean back more,” she said, and he complied handsomely, his back pushing against the surface of the wall to better allow access. She straddled him to the best of her ability, her hands digging into his shoulders as she lowered her lips over the head of his cock. “F-Fuck-“ escaped his lips, which made her grin - before she, too, lost herself to the pressure that built. He had held his cock in place for her mount, ever the gentleman.

Neema whined as her lips were parted, the broadness of his manhood slipping inside of her easily but no less a tight-fit. It filled her to the brim, bordering on uncomfortable but not quite yet - there was something else there; a molten hot need to continue, the feel tingling her pussy, egging her on. She whimpered, more than she felt he deserved to hear but it could not be helped. A desperate, throaty groan came from the miqo’te as she lowered, her eyes shifting to look up at him as she begun to sway her hips, rocking to and fro. 

He held his head back briefly, a soft moan coming from the roegadyn. 

With her lips stretched wide, her legs faintly wobbled as she took more of him in, her breathing already ragged from the need for endurance as well as his girth. “H-Hold me, hold me, fuck- hol-“ 

His careful grip settled itself under her, showering the miqo’te in a warmth that doubled as, with the advent of his strength, he pulled her up and down—to the point that her legs drew themselves over his arms by the crook of his elbows, as his fingers dug into the supple flesh of her rear again. The hairs upon her tail puffing out slightly as it twirled and shook. With the weight shifted, her hands dug into the lapel of his collar as she was weighed upon his cock, a plaything to be ravished. She lay her head against his chest, murmuring something amidst the squeaks and groans. 

“Like that, do you?” he said, his voice rumbling against the ear she had against his chest. His breathing was strained, but he remained no less cool-headed. 

Her grip tightened. “S-Shut up-“

He smirked, picking up the pace in which he fucked her. Neema squirmed, unraveling underneath his touch as she attempted to readjust, to hold on - a palm strongly gripped the back of his neck, the other tightening upon his lapel. A shaken breath left the miqo’te, her eyes meeting his own as their mutual sense of breathing had grown ragged. She could see something upon his face; gears turning, a debate that was bouncing back and forth across his mind. He wanted to ask, to proclaim. 

A part of her looked forward to it, wanted it. 

Though, most of her dreaded the idea, felt confused as to what it could possibly be. The difficulty in focusing as she was impaled upon his cock, the roegadyn bottoming out inside of her upon a few of the thrusts. Her eyes would have crossed, were it not for him halting the motioning of his arms. Her disapproving whine had ended as quickly as it had begun, as Mathias shifted. She was pulled from his cock and placed upon the ground, the roegadyn’s careful ministrations grew rough as he flipped her around. Any shred of restraint or snark had melted, seeping from her core as her head settled against the soft skin of her forearms, crossed and already in play. 

He reared up behind her, as she pushed against him, in need. The feeling of his cock filling her pussy proved a smoother one, dwelling deeper though still a tight one; a challenge, lust-addled and strained as she shuddered, her body taking in everything he had to give. A quiet gasp left her, no noise able to make itself known as her sex yielded to every inch of his own. He kept her legs spread side to side, the curve of her ass stuck out to where he wanted it. At first his hands were flat against the grass on either side of her, as he went to work.

“Oh... f-fuck, Matti-“ 

Suddenly his hands gripped her shoulders - caught between the need to remain careful, and the desire to throw all caution to the wind. He bottomed out inside of his lover, quim coating his cock in droves as he began to fuck her - well and truly. 

Neema faded, her sense of self withering to become something lesser. Something simple. To be made love to, and worshipped, were things she welcomed warmly. Things she wanted. But what she craved... was to be used. A person’s plaything, a hole to fuck, a place to leave ones seed or other such ounces of pleasure, and nothing more. Mathias battered her mind with the length of his sex, losing herself to the moment. Nothing before, nothing after. No coin, no thievery. Just him and his cock. A heart stolen, attention warranted. Something she took pride in stealing as she had, a soft grin spreading across her messy lips as her body shook and rattled, the impact stuffing her with ounce after ounce of tinier, quicker orgasms that consistently tore her form asunder - leaving it numb, tingly, hot-to-the-touch.

She kept her chin off the ground, her fingers clawing into the soil. “M-More-“

He sighed aloud, not quite distastefully but from the wind knocking itself from his lungs. 

Her fingers dug into the soils embrace as she was pounded into, her body shuddering from the impact, from how full she was stuffed. He pressed a firm palm against the curve of her ass, reddening its cheek. Noise hit a point in her throat where it tumbled, felt clogged. She could hardly breathe. Truth to be told, she hardly wanted to.

As if her roegadyn piece of arm-candy had read her mind, his thumb, index and middle fingers curved around the sides of her throat, closing it in with pressure as his motions quickened. A word roughly escaped her, something to egg him on further.

_“M... Matti, M-Matti-“_

He pulled, bringing her closer as his chest pressed against her: one hand around her throat, the other just below her breasts. The strain in his face tightened as his hips met her own, bottoming out inside of her. The grip around her throat put a stop to any scream she could emit, her world darkening slightly as her body was filled to the brim with his seed — as well as the orgasm shattering her, irrevocably. He held her close, heaving hoarsely as her eyes threatened to roll to the back of her head. Her form tingled with the aftershock of orgasm, rippling across her in a deep shudder as she was held from behind. Mathias pressed a kiss to her neck, his other hand sliding over the length of her curves. “I love you,” he weakly blurted, to her shock. _“I love you and I shouldn’t but I do, and I am sorry-“_

A breath of fresh air filled her lungs as his grip relinquished just a hair, a minor squeak spilling from her lips as she did so, cutting him off. “You’re... apologizing again.” Her hand daintily rubbed over the slight bulge below her navel, a staple she had grown happily accustomed to. For her, she either went big - or went home. Still, she sighed. “You’ve made such a mess of me...”

He chuckled, his nerves shaken from his admittance but still, he pulled out of her slowly, the act giving her another shudder. 

He held her closely still, his arms briefly wrapped around her. The warmth pressed down upon her, the pleasant numbness in her form a welcome one. He said the thing. Did he really.. like her? Like-like? She wasn’t sure how she should feel, but in the moment all she wanted was to feel one, simple thing.

“D-Don’t.. don’t even think we’re done,” she said as she readjusted, grasping the length of his member and giving it another few, affectionate pumps. She faced him fully, giving her dance partner a curious look. She had heard what he said, the sweetness of his admission - and found it.. odd, funny, a mite cute. A smile formed on her lips. Upon that beautiful, Griadanian day, taken by the demand of lust and the mercy of another’s warmth, she hit him with a deep, abiding stare, hitting him with the most romantic thing she could possibly think of. Her free hand gripped his tie, her voice sultry. “Fuck me in the ass now, sweetheart.”

Mathias gave her a look. Elated and surprised in equal measure. Yet the small grin which formed upon his lips came for another reason. “Shall.. shall I keep my hat on this time, then?”

The wrinkle in her brow sharpened, as the grip upon his tie tightened. “I hate you.”

Another chuckle escaped him. “I know, I lo-hup!-“ In that moment, the roegadyn was pulled forward, coming with her as she lay down - and a series of desperate sighs and muffled groans had followed. 

The festivities could wait another few minutes.

Or hours.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [@RichmanBachard](https://twitter.com/RichmanBachard) and [@RichmanSFW](https://twitter.com/RichmanSFW) to keep up with my stories, my commission info, and my insanity.


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